Journey's end
by AmazingApplePie
Summary: Frodo, together with his uncle, joins the elves on their last journey westward. But who is this Thorin he keeps hearing about?
1. Introduction

Authors note: Can she do it? Can I write a story? I honestly don't know. But this idea came to me after hearing the song into the west by Annie Lennox and it just won't let me go. Reviews will be greatly appreciated!

Frodo sighed as he slumped over the railing of the ship. Saying goodbye to his friends had been painful. It could, of course, not be compared to carrying the ring into Mordor. But then again, maybe that had been a whole different kind of difficult. Taking the ring to be destroyed had not seemed like a choice to Frodo. It was just something which had to be done. It had threatened the whole of middle earth. It had threatened the shire, the one place which Frodo knew he could not live without. Often during their journey Frodo had dreamed of the shire. With its gently rolling hillsides and bustling market places, the Green Dragon and of course his own Bags End. And at the point where Frodo himself had lost the strength to dream Sam had done it for him. Sam had spun tales of their heroics and painted pictures of the gardens surrounding Bags End. It had kept them going 'till the end.

All the more horrible it had been that upon reclaiming the shire and making it his home again Frodo had come to the discovery it wasn't that anymore. Frodo had seen too much, been damaged to deeply to be able to settle back into his old life. He couldn't feel the joy of having a home anymore. And it had hurt. Deep inside Frodo had known from the very beginning that he would never be able to feel at home in the shire again. Stil, Frodo had tried for his friends. He had smiled and he had eaten and smoked and drunk and talked. He had tried. But he hadn't felt any of it. His friends had felt it too. They, like Frodo, had hoped it would pass. But after a while they all had to face it. The old Frodo wasn't coming back.

The invitation by the elves to join them on their last journey therefore had been most welcome to Frodo. Like a breath of air . Like a weight had been sitting on his chest this whole time which suddenly vanished.

Hope.


	2. Chapter 1

**Authors note: **First things first. I'd like to thank all the lovely people who decided to follow favourite or even review this story. I know it might not seem like much but waking up to ten notices in my email was absolutely wonderful ;) Then there is a question I'd like to ask you; do you prefer long or short chapters? I mostly prefer ridiculously long chapters, but that would take some more time to finish. So; more short chapters or a few long ones?

**Chapter 1:**

Forget about hope! Why had he ever been hopeful about passing a prolonged period of time at sea? Frodo truly couldn't recall. At the moment Frodo was feeling absolutely miserable. Crawled away in a corner of his small cabin he was clutching onto a bucket like his life depended on it. He could feel the waves crashing into the sides of the ship. It was like big, beastly claws were fighting over the ship, tossing it from one side to the other. It was, Frodo thought, like they were on one of his toy ships he used to play with when he was still a little hobbit. The thought of how many times he had made those ships sink in an imaginary storm or battle in his bathtub did nothing to comfort him. He could hear the hull of the ship groaning and moaning under the force of the sea and yet another wave of nausea came over him.

The fact was that Frodo was actually quite frightened of open water. This was not at all surprising if you thought about how his parents had met their end. And if you consider that there are but few hobbits who trust water enough to actually set foot on a boat to begin with, you can see how he would be terrified.

Frodo, in short, was a mess. So much that the only reply he could manage to the knock on his door was a vague and tortured moan. The only thing Frodo thought in that moment was that he hoped none of the elves would have to see him in this state. Quite an irrational thought maybe. But elves were already so much more graceful than hobbits to begin with that the comparison with him at this moment would be downright ridiculous. At least, in Frodo's mind. Luckily for Frodo it was no elf that entered his room. While peering through the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead he saw two feet that could only belong to a hobbit.

Bilbo sighed as he saw his nephew huddled away in a corner, green in the face and shaking like a leaf. He should have foreseen this, he thought to himself. He'd known of the lad's fear of water ever since he'd adopted him. And the journey with the ring, his ring he thought with a sense of shame, had not made his fears any better. "Come on boy" Bilbo said kneeling down next to Frodo, his knees creaking with the effort. "Let's get you into bed." Bilbo knew perfectly well that his nephew had ceased being a boy a long time ago. But in Bilbo's mind Frodo would always be the little orphaned boy who had come to live with his uncle, the boy whom Bilbo had grown to love so much. This feeling was only confirmed by the sob escaping Frodo's lips while Bilbo led him to the bed. "There now, you'll be alright" said Bilbo while digging through his pockets fishing out a small vial of valerian extract. "You just take three drops of these and you'll feel better in no time at all." It would not help with the nausea Bilbo thought to himself, but at least it would reduce the panic.

It pained Bilbo to see his nephew in such a state. But he would be damned if he showed it! "Now then" he said, when Frodo had settled down a bit. "Did I ever tell you about the time I rode a barrel down a waterfall? You should have seen Thorin's face when told him to get into a barrel!" And before they knew it Bilbo was of on one of his grand stories.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Bilbo sat back in his chair, his joints protesting his every movement. This shabby old body was not made for a sea climate he thought to himself. Wistfully he moved his fingers through a lock of frail white hair. He had gotten old indeed. But even though his body had kept going for an unnaturally long time he felt as though his mind hadn't. As if it hadn't been able to keep up somehow. Like it was stuck. He had lost himself in his adventures again. It was one of the few things left capable of giving him true enjoyment in life. Most of the times Bilbo didn't even notice when he started talking of them out loud. He didn't need an audience. Though he supposed it was good to have one from time to time. One got lonely, all alone with one's memories.

Bilbo sighed, he missed Thorin. The way things had ended between them had given him no closure at all. All the same things had ended, there was no doubt about that. Afterwards Bilbo hadn't dared returning to the lonely mountain anymore. However much he had wanted to. To see Erebor brought back to its former glory, as Thorin had envisioned it. There was nothing he would have wanted more. But Bilbo hadn't been able to. There was too much hurt there and that was the end of it.

So Bilbo had settled down in the shire for good, living life the way normal hobbits were expected to. Giving presents on his birthday, writing lots of letters and occasionally chatting with his gardener. Taking in his nephew had returned some meaning to his life. He saw a relatable curiosity in Frodo's eyes that reminded him so much of his younger self. The boy hadn't frowned at his uncle's unconventional stories of ideas. Moreover, he had met him halfway with questions and ideas of his own! And Bilbo had loved him for it. It had slightly dulled the wrenching in his chest. Nevertheless, the feeling of emptiness had remained the same.

Bilbo looked at his nephew who was now quietly sleeping. All traces of panic gone Frodo looked almost peaceful in his sleep. Almost, except for the slowly fading tear tracks on his face. Bilbo wouldn't leave his side this evening he decided. He would be there should the boy need him. That was the least he could do. He settled back in his chair, might as well make himself comfortable while he was at it.

* * *

Though Fili was always considered the serious one he was in no way averse to his brothers antics. And although if left to his own device Fili would probably always go for the safer approach of matters, he rather enjoyed letting Kili take the lead. There was something altogether charming about his brothers bull in a porcelain shop approach of things. Also, it was just way more fun that way.

This was probably the reason why at the moment, if you looked closely, you could find the Durin brothers stalking their uncle down the wharf. Though stalking may have been a big word for it. Stealth was not a typical quality for a dwarf. And, Fili thought, even for a dwarf Kili was being decidedly graceless. So far Kili had managed to managed to walk into at least five people. One time almost causing a fight for stepping on a traders merchandise. Fili was rather surprised their uncle hadn't noticed them yet. In fact, he had never seen his uncle quite so distracted as he was right now. Maybe there was something in Kili's observations after all.

Though Kili might not have been the most tactful of them two, he had been the first to notice that Thorin had been strangely distracted since the arrival of a messenger a few days ago. And Fili was beginning to see that his brother might be right. Being dragged to one town or another was nothing strange. Their uncle was a busy man and Fili and Kili were often required to come along on his business trips. Their uncle didn't like leaving them out of his sight for more than a few days at a time. It had been worse at first, but after what they'd been through this seemed understandable for both Fili and Kili. What was strange though was that their uncle didn't seem to be busy at all. There had been no meetings or negotiations, no visitors and no visiting. If they weren't here for business then why were they here at all? And was that? Why was their uncle staring into the distance like that? All distracted too. Thorin was nothing if not decisive and straight to the point. He simply did not do nostalgically staring into the sea with the setting sun on the background. The brothers exchanged a thoroughly bewildered look. What in Aulë's name was going on here!?

* * *

While slowly waking from his sleep the first thing Frodo noticed was that his bed was moving. It took a few seconds before the hollow feeling in his stomach reminded him of the night before. Upon opening his eyes Frodo noticed they were still puffy and wouldn't open completely. Well, at least the storm had settled down and his panic was gone. There was still a kind of wobbly feeling in his head but admittedly it was way better than the nausea he had experienced last night. Right, Frodo thought, time for food. The storm yesterday had prevented him from eating dinner, so there was no way he was going to miss breakfast! Even if it existed of more lembas bread than he would have preferred!

Getting out of bed with renewed energy Frodo noticed a sleeping form in the chair beside his bed. His uncle! Dotty old man! He knew he shouldn't sleep in anything but a bed. His rheumatism didn't allow for sleeping in chairs. But while thinking this Frodo couldn't suppress a feeling of intense gratefulness and affection. Grabbing his blanket from his bed Frodo made sure his Uncle was as comfortable as possible before leaving for breakfast.


End file.
